


Yuuri Katsuki's Musical Playlist

by Kamikaze_stewardess



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comic relief Phichit, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Festivals, Humor, LONG HAIRED VIKTOR, M/M, Music, One Night Stands, Recreational Drug Use, Strangers to Lovers, Viktor is a train wreck, Yuuri doesn't even go here, he just has a lot of feelings, sex with strangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaze_stewardess/pseuds/Kamikaze_stewardess
Summary: A newly single Yuuri joins Phichit at a music festival. Determined to become a new, more fun version of himself, Yuuri lets loose, drinks and earns himself a backstage pass to rub elbows with the world's trendiest artists.There, he meets a mystery man at the bar and decides to act on their mutual attraction.Little does he know, his booty call is actually Viktor Nikiforov, the lead singer of Phichit's favorite band.The man is a goddamn train wreck, but Yuuri is coming along for the ride.





	1. Hey

**Author's Note:**

> I'm watching Bridget Jone's baby. This story is LOOSELY inspired by the movie's plot, so picture the music festival as being something similar- outdoor, three day long, giant hipster festival.
> 
> Viktor's band is like a cross between MGMT and The Pixies.
> 
> He's also an absolute basket case and Yuuri is a poor, heart broken little bunny.
> 
> They MIGHT end up loving each other.
> 
> The chapter titles are songs performed by Viktor

Phichit pulls on Yuuri's arm so hard, he could swear it pulled out of socket. At one point, his rubber boots caught in a puddle of mud and he would've face planted into the ground, had Phichit's iron grip not held his weight. 

"Slow down!" Shouts Yuuri, struggling to keep up with his friend as he bounds down a grassy hill.

Phichit's squeal rings above the blaring music and roaring crowd. "Yuuri! This is just like Coachella! Oh, I forgot my flower crown..."

Phichit finally pauses midway downhill to dig through his backpack, so Yuuri sits for a moment to catch his breath. This entire trip was his idea, and in Yuuri's opinion a very self serving one at that but he couldn't deny his friend's efforts to cheer him up. Phichit looks radiant; he's wearing a crown of blue roses on his head and his smile makes his eyes light up. If Yuuri could see the energy radiating from him, it would glow neon orange, yellow and indigo, like the morning sunrise. Warm, comforting, hopeful....so very Phichit. Ever the optimist and source of contagious happy energy.

Yuuri smiled and took his friend's hand, so they could bound down the hill together; he had to admit, this was a good idea. He'd never been to a music festival before; truth be told, he wasn't a fan of festivals or music really, but Phichit raved about the band lineup and begged Yuuri to come with.

'You need this, Yuuri!' He'd said, beaming as he displayed two paper tickets in his hand over Skype chat.

If Yuuri's aura could be seen, it would be blue. Dark, navy blue, maybe even with a hint of black.

Somewhere in the city dump, a red sweater was doomed to pergatory, never to be worn or cried into again. Yuuri knew he couldn't wear it without having flashbacks, so he threw it away, along with every other gift given to him over the past four years. 

The tickets were a gift, given to him by his best friend, to help heal his aching heart. Phichit swore he had the perfect remedy for breakup pain and that turned out to be three days spent with his best friend. Who could argue with that?

A drink is pressed into his hand; Yuuri is relieved to see it'd come from Phichit, as he holds a matching red solo cup, filled with some purply mystery liquid. Oh well. Seize the day. 

"Kanpai!" Chirps Yuuri, as they clank their cups together and downed it in one gulp. He blanched at what tasted like grape cough medicine. 

Phichit wipes his mouth off on his sleeve and grabs Yuuri's hand. They're being swallowed into the growing crowd of people; Yuuri tries to distract himself from the anxiety gnawing at his chest. He can't see very well without his glasses, but no one in the audience seems threatening; it's mostly teenaged girls wearing flower crowns to match Phichit's. He takes a deep breath to calm himself; the purple mystery liquid is warming him down to his core and he's started to feel more light on his feet. Before he knows it, he's subconsciously swaying back and forth to the music; yes, Phichit was right. This was a good decision. 

He looks over and sees his best friend smiling; the neon colored stage lights illuminate Phichit's face. On a whim, he tugs on his sleeve and prompts him to pose for a picture; they both flash peace signs in their selfie, with the caption 'having a blast at Lunafest, 2017!' 

They have another drink together and rejoin the crowd; Yuuri can't say he much cares for the band, but he's pleasantly buzzed and enjoying the excitement of the audience. He sings along with the chorus of the song, twirling round and round with one hand in Phichit's and a drink in the other. He sees a man pass something to his friend; curiously, Yuuri watches as Phichit places rolled paper between his lips and inhales. He feels nervousness creep up his spine, but the alcohol is lowering his inhibitions. So when Phichit makes a "come hither" motion, he leans forward and when his best friend's lips press against his own, he opens his mouth. The smoke assaults his lungs and burns his throat, but he doesn't fight it.

This is new Yuuri. New, fun Yuuri is totally OK with accepting drugs from strangers at a concert. 

Phichit wraps his arms around him and leans his head against his shoulder. He's rocking him in an odd sort of slow dance; it reminds Yuuri of his first dance with a girl in middle school. He feels floaty, like he could levitate and walk on each thrumming note in the music. There's a cosmic connection felt between himself and every member of the audience; for once, Yuuri can actually see the appeal in this new hipster music. Maybe he'd just listened to it wrong the entire time- that is, he'd been sober. 

When the song ended, the crowd exploded into electric applause, roaring and chanting a name Yuuri couldn't quite make out. Phichit, of course, cheers and claps the loudest of all. Yuuri smiles and cheers along with him. 

Then, suddenly, he feels a large hand clap over his shoulder; when he turns around, he's greeted by a man in a neon orange vest, with 'security' painted over the front. Phichit turns around too; they both audibly gulp.

Once more, Yuuri feels the rise of anxiety clawing its way up from his gut, stabbing its nails into him until it reaches his throat and strangles. He's light headed and shaking now and desperately wishing he hadn't smoked the mystery weed. 

"Gentleman," says the security guard. "If you'd come with me, please." It's not said in the format of a question; he turns and walks away, expecting Yuuri and Phichit to follow him, which they do.

Yuuri is panicking now. He's on the verge of tears, shaking like a leaf and leaning into Phichit, who tries to whisper any comforting thing he can come up with. In Yuuri's mind, they're doomed; all he can see is himself and Phichit sitting in a jail cell, while his cheating ex laughs at his mugshot on the news.

"It'll be ok, Yuuri," he hears Phichit as if he's far away. The panicked voice in his head is speaking over him and screaming 'no, it will NOT be ok, everything is terrifying.'

Much to their surprise, they are not led to a police car or jail cell but rather to a door behin the stage. The security guard stops there and turns to them. "Backstage passes, courtesy of the band," he says, then thrusts a pass into their chests. 

Yuuri is positive he's gaping like a fish. Phichit is absolutely giddy.

*******

Backstage is unbelievable; they're instructed not to approach celebrities unless they're invited over, but Yuuri can't even imagine introducing himself to a celebrity, anyway. Phichit would, he could say that as a matter of fact. Instead of mingling with famous faces, he's taking selfies and capturing all of them in the background. Yuuri still finds the scenery to be breathtaking, even without celebrity encounters; he sees plush seats and drinks served in crystal glasses, a sharp contrast to the muddy puddles and grassy hills outside. There are waiters serving hor d'oeuvres he can't pronounce; he eats goose liver wrapped in bacon and sips martinis. It's a scene from his wildest dreams and Yuuri is relishing in it; if only Koji could see him now!

Two hours later, Phichit is nowhere to be found, as he'd been whisked away by a few of the band members. He'd told Yuuri not to worry and not to wait up, so he did neither; instead, he sat at the bar and drowned himself in free alcohol. He was positively smashed and felt better than he'd felt in ages; god bless Phichit, the best friend any man could ask for.

Yuuri's head is resting in his folded arms; he's examining the design on the stem of a wine glass, twirling the empty crystal between his fingers. He thinks about asking the bartender for another, but fears the next drink might be the one that finally does him under. It'd be a shame to puke up expensive goose liver, he thinks to himself and formally decides he's done drinking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone sitting in the barstool next to his; he doesn't bother greeting the stranger, but he does accept the water placed in front of him, courtesy of the bartender. Yuuri isn't sure of the tipping etiquette in the UK, so he nods his thanks and sips from his glass.

"Would you like another?" Asks the newcomer.

Yuuri snorts. He feels water threatening to come up his nose. "I already have one, see?" He slurs, lifting his full glass on display.

The stranger laughs quietly to himself and nods. "Yes, I can see that. I thought you might like something a bit more exciting, but I suppose you've had enough." 

Yuuri is intrigued; he swivels in his stool and turns to look at the man. When he sees him, he feels his breath catch in his throat; simply put, the stranger next to him is absolutely gorgeous. Blue eyes, lean muscle and cheek bones sharp enough to cut a man; he's everything Yuuri is not, and everything he goes for in a bed partner. He's not usually one to seek out one night stands but it's been four years since he's been touched by anyone other than Koji; his skin itches for the touch of new finger tips. 

He realizes then that he's been staring slackjawed for a while, as Random Hot Guy looks confused, one silver eyebrow quirked at Yuuri as he lifts his champagne flute to his lips. Yuuri knows there's a 100% chance he looks like a drunken mess, but once more his inhibitions are lowered, so he does his best to sound sober when he says "I could go for something exciting."

His hand slaps down awkwardly on the stranger's knee, then travels up his thigh; he's given a heart shaped grin and led by the hand down the hall, to a dressing room with a gold star on door.


	2. Electric Feel

Yuuri couldn't believe his eyes. For a moment, he was legitimately convinced his vision was deceiving him; afterall, it'd happened before, half blind without his glasses. But this time, everything in front of him was very real. Or rather, the people in front of him who'd frozen still in a rather lewd position, both shocked to see him standing in the doorway.

Yuuri's vision swam as tears gathered in his eyes. "Koji....how...how could you?!"

It only took a moment for the shock to wear off and then he was storming out the door, sobbing unabashed as he grabbed his car keys from the hook by the front door. 

"Yuuri, wait, please!" Koji shouted as he chased after him, wearing nothing but their bedsheet wrapped hastily around his waist. 

Yuuri didn't stop to look back. He ran through the parking garage as fast as his feet could carry him, hopped in the car and drove off. In his rear view mirror, he saw Koji chasing after him, but his figure became smaller and smaller as he stayed behind Yuuri's parting vehicle. Behind him, so far away, where he belonged. 

He was an idiot. Of course he could never ignore Koji's phone call; he reasoned with himself that he deserved an explanation, but should've anticipated the words hurting him more than they would ever help.

"Yuuri....I'm sorry, but everything in our relationship has become so dull. I needed to feel excited again, you know? I'm sorry, that sounds terrible, but-"

"...You're bored?"

"I....well, I wouldn't put it like that but yes, I'm bored."

******

That had been old, boring Yuuri. When he'd accepted the tickets from Phichit, he planned to come to Lunafest and transform into new, fun Yuuri. This was his brand new self. This Yuuri isn't dull or boring and he certainly doesn't chase cheating ex boyfriends.

This Yuuri -the fun one- wakes up in a stranger's bed, massively hung over and tasting vodka in his mouth. He's absolutely sure he needs a shower and a toothbrush. Beside him, the bed is empty, which he's somehow thankful for; at least his mystery bed partner isn't there to see or smell him. 

Yuuri fishes for his glasses and finds them carefully placed on a bedside table; he puts them on, thankful to have his vision returned to him. In the empty place where his glasses were, there's a note left for him, scrawled in curly letters. 

'Thanks for the great time last night. Hope to see you front row this evening! Xoxo, V'

Yuuri is perplexed, to say the least. If he's entirely honest with himself, he doesn't remember much of last night, whether it be the "great time" he had or whom this "V" person is. He does, however, notice an empty condom wrapper on the bed (at least drunk Yuuri practices safe sex) and a familiar ache in his backside. It's easy to piece two and two together from there. 

"Well......at least I wasn't boring," he says to himself.

*****

Yuuri finds Phichit later that afternoon; evidently he'd slept past eleven AM and figured his best friend would be off to find lunch. Phichit swore greasy food was the perfect hangover cure, so when Yuuri found him sitting at a picnic table with a cheeseburger in hand, he figured the other man must feel as terrible as him. 

"You too, huh?" He asks, plopping in the seat beside Phichit. 

"Mmhmm," he grumbles around a mouthful of his lunch.

"Did you have a good time with those grungy band members?"

"Uggghhhh, they weren't even members of the band, Yuuri!" Phichit pulls at his hair in a dramatic display of his distress. "They were just security members who talk a lot of shit. But at least I didn't sleep with any of them."

Yuuri feels a hot flush spread over his cheeks; Phichit, of course, picks up on it immediately. His radar for Yuuri's embarrassment is always spot on.

"Oh em gee, you slut! Dish! Tell me everything!"

Phichit's voice is too high in octaves for his hangover's liking; still, Yuuri devulges in the few details he remembers from last night. Namely, the man's piercing blue eyes and how it felt to cling to his broad shoulders for dear life, like his new partner planned to fuck him to death. Yuuri wonders if one can actually die from cumming repeatedly.

Meanwhile, Phichit is practically salivating as he listens to Yuuri's story. 

"Oh my god......that's hot. You need to see him again!!!!"

Phichit was grabbing his hands and jumping up and down, cheering in delight over Yuuri's conquest.

"Phichit, I don't even remember his name! Or what he looks like, really."

"Process of elimination, my dear friend," says Phichit. "There are only so many hot Russian guys at this festival, right? You'll know him when you see him. Oooh it's like Cinderella! We'll find the dick that fits in the condom left behind!"

********

Viktor's head rested back on the edge of his chair; he'd been sitting in hair and makeup for what felt like hours now, enduring acid peels, wrinkle treatments and contour and highlight. Viktor swore if he never saw a number eight brush again, it would be too soon. And the lady who'd waxed his eyebrows smelled like cigarette smoke and shame. If there was one place on earth he didn't want to be, it was hair and makeup, which had lost its glamorous appeal years ago. There was no reason he couldn't squeeze in a quick nap. 

Or at least, he would have, were it not for his manager screaming at him in angry strings of Russian.

"Vitya, you brat! I've told you time and time again, these four a.m parties are ridiculous. You missed sound check this morning! Do you have any idea what that's going to cost me?!"

"Yakov," grumbled, lifting an infused cucumber slice from one eye. "Please stop shouting, I have a headache."

"What you mean to say is you have a hangover, you insolent, unappreciative-"

"Done!" Chirped a petite, redheaded makeup artist; when the cucumbers had shown little improvement, Mila used a series of color correcting makeup skills to cover the bags under Viktor's eyes. At the very least, he looked more presentable, in his opinion. But what really mattered in the end was how Yakov felt.

He peered over Viktor, carefully eyeballing the makeup application; a fat finger rested under his chin, while he squinted one eye, searching for any imperfections the press could jump on.

"Good work, Mila," said Yakov, nodding in approval. "Viktor, you should apologize to this young lady. She's the only reason you don't look like a sorry sack of shit every morning."

Mila laughed and shooed him away. She'd stayed in Yakov's good graces for years, as her makeup skills were impeccable, and she also helped to keep Viktor in line. She'd only joined their team two years ago, but quickly secured her job as the best artist in the industry. Yakov was eternally grateful to her. He bowed his thanks and made his leave, just after handing Viktor a water bottle and two aspirin tablets.

"Make sure you're presentable within the hour. You're signing autographs until stage time."

Viktor rolled his eyes and muttered "Yes, Papa."

"Boy, if I were your Papa, I would've beaten the smugness out of you a long time ago. Don't think you're too big to go over my knee!" Yakov was still shouting and grumbling as he marched down the hallway. 

Viktor and Mila chuckled in unison; they knew not to take Yakov too seriously. His bark was worse than his bite and his commanding attitude is what made him such a successful manager.

"Well, now that he's gone," said Viktor, tossing his long, silver braid over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie, filled to the top with white powder. Along with it came a credit card and a rolled up bill. 

"Thanks but I'll pass," said Mila. "Whatever gets you through your day, though."

*******

As it turned out, finding his Cinderella was much more difficult than Yuuri and Phichit had thought; it was day two of the three day long festival and the place was packed with hundreds upon hundreds of people. They figured he must be connected to one of the bands, so they tried to go backstage again, only to be turned away by the security guard from the night prior. It was back to the drawing board.

From there, they tried the autograph booths, hoping to see him working alongside one of the musical artists. The lines were a mile long though, so they gave up after waiting for entry into the third booth. The next line was by far the longest and happened to lead to Phichit's favorite band, Figure Eight. 

"Oh come on!!! One more won't hurt! This could be the one, Yuuri," Phichit whines as he chases after Yuuri's parting form. He thinks he almost catches a flash of silver as they pass the autograph booth, but writes it off as wishful thinking. 

He catches up with Yuuri and sees the forlorn look on his face; Phichit glances around, looking for something to cheer him up. He spots the most perfect thing since the making of perfect things, then rakes Yuuri by the shoulders and steers him left.

"Remember when you said you wanted to become new, fun Yuuri?"

Yuuri quirks an eyebrow at him. "Yeah?"

Phichit wears a grin which would make the Cheshire cat proud. "Well, new Yuuri has pierced nipples."

*********

Yuuri always said, Phichit can makes friends ANYWHERE. That statement had proven true, over and over and over again, and today was no exception.

He believed in a few universal truths: gravity is real, heartache is inevitable and Phichit has friends in low places.

He believes in that rule now moreso than ever, as they sprawl out on a blanket big enough to cover his entire living room; beside them, sit their two new friends: a blonde Russian boy, who coincidentally shares his name, and Otabek, the man who pierced Yuuri's nipples and tattooed Phichit's tramp stamp.

Yuuri has to admit, the tattoo is very befitting. Phichit selected a large yellow sunflower, just above his tailbone. It's bright, happy and flirtatious, just like Phichit.

Yuuri wishes he could say the same about the blood spots on his white shirt.

"Stop rubbing them," barks the other Yuri.

Yuuri immediately pulls his hand back. Otabek doesn't talk much, but Yuri speaks enough for the both of them; he's all piss and vinegar, scowling and criticising anything said by anyone. Phichit seems unbothered, as he just makes a witty retort to everything the other Yuri says; Yuuri wishes he could be less sensitive. This is the new, fun Yuuri, the version of himself who shouldn't take a joke to heart, or have his feelings hurt so easily.

Suddenly, he feels a gentle nudge in his ribcage. He turns to see Otabek, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"Don't take anything he says personally. He's young and angry."

Yuuri smiles and nods; in spite of Otabek's rough exterior, he can sense a kind gentleness about him. This is especially true when he leans over and gives the other Yuri's hip a gentle squeeze and the spitfire instantly sizzles out.

They're a good match.

Phichit is halfway through telling them about Yuuri's "gay Cinderella," when suddenly, the stage lights come to life and the crowd erupts in cheers. Phichit, naturally, is the loudest of them all.

Yuuri smiles and watches from the top of the hill; he's content here, close enough to soak up the happiness of the crowd and feel the bond created by music, but far enough to not be overwhelmed. The band's first song starts with a lofty little guitar riff and he finds himself bobbing his head along with the music. Phichit is dancing and twirling like the flower child he is; Otabek has his arm around Yuri, whose pale hair seems to glow like stardust under the moonlight. It's surreal, being at the festival, having fun, being brought back to life by music after old Yuuri died from heartache.....he's happy then. He doesn't feel boring anymore.

He gets up and dances with Phichit; a crop top wearing girl comes over with a basket full of glow sticks. She hands one to reach of them and then pauses by Yuuri; she puts a flower behind his ear, kisses him on the cheek and skips down the hill.

Then, they're dancing with fire in their hands, lighting up the hillside with electric swirls of pink, yellow and blue. Even Yuri joins in; his scowl is firmly held in place, but they can all tell he's having fun. 

In a moment of spontaneity, Yuuri yells above the music, "let's get closer!"

So they do. And maybe it was their vibrant energy, making everyone bow down to them, or maybe it was Phichit screaming "out of the way, Peasants! This prince needs to find his Cinderella!" But everyone clears a path for them. Yuuri could never be as assertive as Phichit, but he'll happily be held by the hand and led through the crowd, all the way to the front row. He's a giggling mess by then, positively luminescent from soaking up the crowd's electric energy. He's in the front row, amongst thousands of people, dancing with his best friend to his favorite band. Tonight, he doesn't need Koji. Not when he's lit up with starlight and dancing front row with his favorite flower child.

He looks up then, and stops. 

He's frozen in place, and when Phichit stops to ask "Yuuri, what's wrong?" He smacks him in the chest and points to the stage.

Long, loosely flowing silver hair. Broad shoulders. Piercing blue eyes and a heart shaped mouth, moving behind the microphone in his hands.

"It's him," mumbles Yuuri, too quiet to be heard through the live music.

"What?!" Shouts Phichit.

"It's Cinderella!" Yuuri yells back, louder this time.

He hears Phichit gasp beside him. "Viktor Nikiforov? THAT'S the mystery guy with the glass slipper?!"

Yuuri says nothing; he's looking up now and meeting the gaze of the stranger he met last night. The lead singer of a top rated band, who's smiling down at him as he sings lyrics straight into Yuuri's core, making him float up and up until he's taking his hand and being pulled on stage.


	3. Chapter 3

From the Inquirer, UK:

Viktor Nikiforov, lead singer of the top charting band Figure Eight, performed last night at Lunafest 2017. During his final stage performance, he was seen taking an audience member by the hand and pulling him on stage! The lucky fan has yet to be identified but reporters spotted him leaving with Nikiforov, post-performance, toward the backstage area. One thing is for certain- whomever this mystery boy is, he has become the envy of every Figure Eight fan across the globe!

******

Yuuri didn't get the chance to say goodbye to Phichit or their new friends, as he was dragged back stage after Viktor's performance. He was abuzz with adrenaline as he was taken by the hand and led to the same dressing room where he'd spent the previous night. It all came flooding back to him; Viktor's long hair trailed down his back, reminding Yuuri of how it felt to clutch the silver tresses in his fists. Viktor has a tattoo on the inside of his wrist and Yuuri remembers it from Viktor leaning above him; it'd been there, in the corner of his vision. Even the bedsheets had been left the same way they were that morning, disheveled from their tossing and turning. 

Viktor was panting and staring at him with wild eyes; he cupped Yuuri's face in his hands and soaked him in, his lustful gaze so overwhelming, Yuuri had to grab onto his wrists for support, lest his knees go out from underhim.

"It's you," Viktor breathes out, like the revelation is the sweetest thing to ever come from his mouth. "I thought I wouldn't find you again." 

"You....you were looking for me?" Gasps Yuuri, bewildered that Viktor had seen him as anything more than a toss in the sheets.

"Of course! I was hoping to see you front row, remember?" 

He did remember the note left on Viktor's accent table, next to his glasses, but thought nothing of it other than a friendly gesture. Hell, he hadn't even pieced together that front row meant he'd be seeing VIKTOR on stage! Suddenly, he was feeling overwhelmed. He'd been absolutely sure that Viktor was another bar patron, or perhaps just a stage worker; he'd no idea the man he went to bed with was a celebrity. 

Just as Yuuri feels a familiar wooziness of spreading anxiety, Viktor seems to catch him; he places his hand under Yuuri's chin, thumb prodding at his bottom lip, while his mouth was mere centimeters away from pressing into Yuuri's own. He can only stare up helplessly at Viktor, feeling simultaneously intimidated and aroused by the man towering over him. 

"Yuuri," says Viktor, speaking his name in a deep, husky rumble, "I have been performing for as long as I can remember. My career will come to an end when I cease to surprise my audience. What a surprise it was for them, to see the most gorgeous man in existence being pulled on stage. Don't you just love it?"

Suddenly, Yuuri was put off; his eyebrows furrowed as Viktor's words sank in and he yanked back, no longer infatuated with the other man. 

"I'm not someone you can use as a publicity stunt," he snarled, making his way toward the door.

Viktor reached out to him. "Wait! I- Yuuri, what?! That's not what I meant at all!"

Viktor rushes toward him and stands in the doorway, blocking his exit.

"Please, Yuuri, just listen to me! Let me explain," he pleads.

Yuuri pauses and folds his arms over his chest. "I'm listening." 

"I didn't mean it that way," Viktor swears. He pauses and takes a deep breath before he continues. "Forgive me for being a bit....brash. It's a terrible habit of mine. What I meant to say is, I was so enamored with you from the moment I saw you and I couldn't wait to show you to the world. You are the most magnificent creature I've ever seen. Please, let me spend some time getting to know you."

Yuuri sighs and becomes visibly relaxed; he knows he's been more than a bit sensitive since the end of his relationship, so he accepts Viktor's apology and agrees to spend the evening with him. 

That's how they end up sneaking away from the festival, down to the city streets, where they take a taxi to Canterbury. Viktor swears the seaside town is to die for and promises Yuuri a stroll near the ocean. There, he takes Yuuri's hand into his own and escorts him through the town streets, talking about everything and nothing as they walk together. Yuuri has to admit, the little town is charming and Viktor's company is quite enjoyable. 

"So, you're from Japan," says Viktor. "How did you end up here?"

Yuuri hesitates; he doesn't want to bring the mood down with his breakup story, but can think of no better explanation for why he came, so he explains. Viktor is a surprisingly keen listener; he doesn't interrupt Yuuri and says nothing until the story is entirely finished. 

Only then does he pipe up and state, "that guy was an idiot." 

Yuuri snorts in laughter and looks up at Viktor in embarrassment. The other man just smiles and wraps his arm around Yuuri's shoulders.

"Well yeah, he kinda was," says Yuuri. "I mean, I can't blame him for being unhappy and wanting to leave, but-"

"No, Yuuri," says Viktor, stopping his train of thought. "He IS to blame. He was stupid for walking away from you. Although I should thank him, because were it not for his stupidity, we wouldn't be standing here now."

Viktor turns to him then and takes both of Yuuri's hands into his own. 

"I'm.....well, I'm afraid you'll find I'm very boring, if you get to know me," says Yuuri, looking down at the ground in shame. "I don't have a lot of confidence." 

Once more, Viktor tilts his chin up until their eyes meet. "You are not boring, Yuuri. Far from. And I have enough confidence for the both of us." He says the last line with a wink, making Yuuri blush and laugh at his antics. 

Then, Viktor is leaning in to kiss him. 

**********

Yuuri learns, on their way back, that Viktor is in town for the rest of the week. It's his break between tour dates, before he heads to Switzerland and then back to Russia. Yuuri is still a bit disbelieving that he's walking hand in hand with a celebrity, but finds it easy to forget, as Viktor is very down to earth. They agree to keep seeing each other until the following Sunday, when Yuuri has to fly back to his home in Hasetsu.

They get handsy during the taxi ride; Viktor's tongue is practically down Yuuri's throat and in a moment of feeling bold, Yuuri climbs into his lap and continues their heated make out session. They don't stop until the taxi driver clears his throat; they've arrived at their destination. Yuuri is embarrassed, so he smiles apologetically, whilst Viktor presses a wad of bills into the man's palm. Going by the look on the driver's face, it's much more than their fare due, but he doesn't have time to question it as Viktor drags him out of the cab. 

"I'm going to take you back into my room and ravish you," he breathes into Yuuri's ear, who shudders in response and eagerly follows Viktor's lead back.

"There you are!"

They stop in their tracks when they hear a voice behind them; Yuuri turns to see Phichit bounding toward him.

"Yuuri, if you're going to disappear like that, can you send a text or a carrier pigeon or something? I was worried!"

Yuuri gives him a sheepish smile and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "Sorry, Phichit! I was busy with, well....you know Viktor," he says, gesturing to the man standing beside him. Viktor gives Phichit a cheerful wave.

"Hello, Yuuri's friend!"

Phichit's jaw practically hits the ground. He dramatically drops down and bows to Viktor's feet. "Your majesty! I am unworthy!"

"He's a big fan," Yuuri explains, embarrassed by his friend's antics. Viktor seems unfazed, having received the same treatment for most of his career. 

"It's nice to meet you, Phichit. You can get up now."

Phichit stands and dusts off his knees. He prattles on about Viktor's work and his album collection back home, as well as his opinion that vinyl will always sound better than a CD. Viktor listens in good nature, but jumps at the first chance to interrupt him.

"Ah, Chris!" He calls, waving his hand in the air as a blonde man walks by, carrying a drink in his hand. He turns his attention to Viktor and walks over.

"There you are, Viktor. I've been looking for you everywhere," the Swiss man practically purs. Yuuri fights down the pang of jealousy he knows he has no right to feel.

"Christophe Giacometti," whispers Phichit. He turns to Yuuri and explains that Christophe plays lead guitar in Figure Eight; apparently Phichit is even more obsessed with him than he is with Viktor, to which Christophe is flattered.

"It's always nice to meet a fan," he says, trailing a hand down Phichit's arm. "We were just headed out for drinks. Care to join us?"

Yuuri and Viktor politely declined in unison, as they had much more intimate plans for the evening, but Phichit shouted over them: "Of COURSE we will!" And with that, he's grabbing Yuuri by the hand and bounding after Christophe. Viktor shakes his head and follows them.

********

Eventually, Phichit gets out of fanboy mode and falls into some form of normalcy; after all, he CAN make friends with just about anyone and quickly forms a bond with every member of Figure Eight. He even makes conversion with Seung Gil Lee, whom Yuuri learns is the bass guitarist and not much for socializing. Viktor explains it all as they sneak away to the bar together, only returning once they've ordered a bottle of expensive champagne.

Yuuri is still surprised by Viktor- he never dreamt of sipping champagne with the world's most eligible bachelor.

When they come back to the table, Yuuri sees more familiar faces: Otabek and Yuri have joined them. Apparently they know the band members as well, having attended Lunafest the year prior.

"That's how we met, actually," says Otabek. "I came here from khazikstan to tattoo and Yuri came on tour with the band." 

"He's my favorite bag boy!" Cheers Viktor. "We even wrote a song about him!"

Yuri growls, as the older Russian is ruffling his hair and cooeing at him. "Never again, old man," he growls. "And that song is NOT about me!"

Yuuri smiles at their antics; this is a new normal for him, but one he could quickly get used to. He's never considered what celebrities might be like when they're not performing and he's pleasantly surprised to find they're just regular people.

Viktor gives him lustful glances; his hand snakes under the table and massages Yuuri's thigh. He then leans in toward his ear and whispers, "I'll be right back, darling, I've got something to tend to in my room." He kisses him on the cheek, pours another serving into his champagne flute and excuses himself.

Yuuri feels a bit overwhelmed at the table, so he steps off toward the bar and takes a seat. Moments later, someone sits beside him; he's surprised when he looks over and sees Christophe.

"So you're the famous Yuuri," he says in that husky, lust filled voice of his. Yuuri wonders if he's just naturally flirtatious, or actually has an interest in him. 

"I....guess so? Although I'm far from famous," he says, feeling embarrassed.

Christophe chuckles. "But of course. What I mean is, Viktor has told us all about you. He likes you a lot, you know." 

Yuuri blushes. "You really think so?"

Christophe nods and suddenly becomes somber. He looks down the hall to be sure Viktor isn't within earshot. 

"Just be careful, Yuuri. Viktor is a great man, but he's not without his flaws."

Yuuri isn't quite sure why he's being warned, but he nods his thanks to Christophe; truthfully, he knows very little of Viktor. What he sees on the surface seems friendly enough, but Yuuri has learned better than to trust the image people project. 'Everyone seems trustworthy in the beginning,' he thinks bitterly.

**********

Viktor returns some time later, seeming lighter and more jubilant than before; he scoops up Yuuri from his seat and twirls him around, then plants a kiss on his lips in front of their friends. Yuuri blushes and ignores Phichit's squeals of delight; he downs the rest of his champagne and takes a seat at their table.

Phichit is sitting in Christophe's lap now; it seems befitting, as they're both flirtatious, social butterflies. Phichit is retelling stories from when he and Yuuri lived together in detroit; Yuuri is sure the stories must be embarrassing, but he's pleasantly buzzed from having a few drinks and Viktor's hand on his thigh is distracting.

The table laughs together, all but Yuri, who scowls and grumbles that he's tired and "done with these losers." Otabek chuckles and stands, pulling his lover up with him.

"I think it's time we head back to our room, guys," he says, then wishes everyone a good night.

Viktor stretches and imitates the least convincing yawn Yuuri has ever seen. "Yes, I agree, I think it's my bed time as well." He turns to Yuuri then and asks, "shall I walk you back to your room?"

It's a loaded question, he can tell. So he replies, "That depends," and turns to Phichit. "If Phichit isn't walking back with me, I might need you to keep me safe."

Phichit seems otherwise occupied, as he's straddling Christophe's lap and scratching playfully at the man's goatee. "Oh no Yuuri, that's ok, the tent is aaaaall yours tonight."

The implication is not missed by Yuuri, nor Viktor.

*********

Yuuri is surprised when Viktor does, in fact, come back to his tent. He thought the temporary housing would be too rugged for the wealthy man, but Viktor doesn't seem to mind, as he makes himself right at home.

He wastes no time in undressing and climbing into bed, then patting the spot next to him as an invitation. Yuuri smiles and climbs in, tucking himself under the covers; Viktor leans down and picks up where he left off, worshiping Yuuri's mouth with his lips and tongue. 

Yuuri moans into their kiss; their tongues tangle in an arousing competition for dominance, with Viktor winning in the end, as he breaks away and leaves Yuuri a helplessly aroused heap of wanting. He kisses and licks his way down the other man's neck, to his chest and down to the hot, desperate place between Yuuri's thighs. 

There, Viktor worships him; he takes Yuuri's arousal into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sucking and drawing out whimpers and pleas from deep in Yuuri's core.

He doesn't stop until he feels Yuuri's thighs quaking beside his head; knowing the younger man is close to cumming, he pulls back and comes back up to kiss him once more, silencing Yuuri's cries for more. When their kiss breaks, Viktor strokes his hair and looks into his eyes, making Yuuri feel like the most priceless treasure one could ever hope to possess.

"Yuuri love, how would you like to continue?"

Yuuri knows what he wants. He doesn't remember Viktor asking him the first night they shared together, as his mind was fogged from alcohol and much of the memory is a blur anyway. He thinks of what Christophe said and how different things were, now that Viktor had made the effort to learn about him and their agreement to see each other all week.

Yuuri licks his kiss swollen lips, eyes darting back and forth as he asks himself, 'how DO I want this to continue?'

Then, with hooded, lust filled eyes, he looks at Viktor and says, "I want you inside of me." 

Moments later, he is prepared and then flipped over, straddling Viktor's lap, his entrance aligned with the other man's throbbing erection. Yuuri's eyes flutter closed as he sinks down onto Viktor's length; his mouth hangs open, singing sweet moans of pleasure as he is filled and stretched, their bodies joined in an ancient tango. 

Viktor calls out Yuuri's name, feeling the other man thrusting down on top of him; long strands of silver are plastered onto his forehead and chest, his skin hot and flushed from arousal. He is determined to make sure Yuuri reaches the peak of his pleasure, so Viktor wraps a hand around his member, pumping in time with Yuuri's movements. 

Yuuri's symphony grows higher and higher in octaves, then stops; his eyes clench shut as he reaches his monumental climax, his entire body quaking atop of Viktor's. It isn't long before the other man climbs to the height of his own pleasure, digging his fingertips into Yuuri's hips as he delivers powerful thrusts, then cums deep inside of his lover's body. 

Yuuri is already drifting off, his head resting on Viktor's chest, having not bothered to climb off of him after they'd finished. Viktor smiles and rests for a moment, then maneuvers out from under Yuuri; he kisses the sleeping man's forehead and tucks the blankets up under his chin.

Then, Viktor dresses and he leaves.


	4. Where is my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! I promise to stick this out, until the very end! 
> 
> A few of you have asked about Viktor's drug use. The thing is, I'm very intrigued by celebrities and how they cope with incredibly hectic schedules. I believe this often leads to substance abuse, as they have to suffer through sleep deprivation, months spent on the road, being away from home and strained relationships. This is what Viktor is going through, which I'm going to touch base on during the next chapter. 
> 
> At this point, I'd like to ask you all: where do you want this to go? What do you want for Yuuri and Viktor? Your input is welcome and will help guide me to the end. The next few chapters will be filled with conflict and afterward, we'll probably reach the end of a short-ish story. I'm predicting no more than 10 chapters.
> 
> So as always, please read and comment, since it's what I live for and feel free to toss a few ideas my way!
> 
> Until next time

From Rolling Rock Magazine-

Viktor Nikiforov was once again spotted with his mystery man; the pair was photographed walking hand in hand through downtown Canterbury, shortly after Nikiforov's winning performance at Lunafest! As we all know, the record breaking singer is a notorious playboy, having had many encounters with fellow artists. But alas, he remains perpetually single. 

The artist made headlines when he came out publicly in 2009, but this is our first real glimpse at his particular taste. Is this man the one to finally capture Nikiforov's heart? Will he settle down outside of the celebrity world? This reporter is dying to know!

*******

Yakov is fuming as he reads the article published that morning; his fist clenches so tightly around his coffee cup, the porcelain begins to crack. It's eight AM and he's already on his third cup. He's growing increasingly tempted to serve himself a shot of vodka alongside his breakfast.

Viktor had stumbled in only forty five minutes prior; Yakov could tell from his gait alone what he'd been up all night doing and the magazine article served as proof. He has a telling vein on the side of his head, which throbs and pulsates the angrier he gets. Today, Yakov thinks it might burst and he might bleed out, which would only give him relief from having to babysit his protégé. 

He stomps over to where Viktor sleeps. Today, he hadn't even bothered to make it to his room; he'd collapsed on the floor, needing only a couch cushion to serve as a pillow. There, he's still sleeping, mouth hanging open as he snores.

Yakov delivers a kick straight to his ribcage. 

He glares down at him mercilessly as Viktor jolts awake, whining in pain and clutching his side.

"What'd you do that for?!"

Yakov emits a growl from deep in his throat. That is his final warning sign, before his temper explodes like an active volcano.

"Goddammit Vitya, have you seen this?!" He screams, throwing the magazine down by his head, which opens directly to the two page spread, featuring Viktor and Yuuri. "What do you think you're doing? Tossing your career away for this....this boy?!"

Viktor is awake then, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He wasn't aware of reporters following them, but the picture of he and Yuuri holding hands by the ocean is clear as day. They must've been close by the entire time. 

Yakov is still standing there, arms folded across his chest, face molded into a look of fury as he waits for a damn good explanation.

Viktor stands up tall, matching Yakov's dominating stance. He looks him straight in the eye and says, "he is not just some boy. And I would gladly throw away my career, my money, everything, if it meant staying with him."

Yakov's nostrils flare, reminding Viktor of an angry bull. The vein on the side of his head has gone purple.

"You are an impulsive child, Vitya. You've known him for two days. Do you think HE wants to commit his life to you?" He shakes his head and turns to leave. "You are forbidden to see him. If I find out the two of you are together, I will highlight the section of your contract, which makes you legally obligated to work under me for the next two years. I will sue you faster than you can blink and you WILL know what it's like to lose everything."

Yakov makes his leave, slamming the door behind him. Viktor reasons, if Yakov thinks of him as an impulsive child, then he'll show him what he's capable of doing on impulse. 

He glances down to a pair of scissors on the table, with Mila Babicheva's business card right next to it. Sometimes the universe just sends signs, and who is he to argue?

*********

When Yuuri wakes up the next day, he's not particularly surprised to see an empty spot on Viktor's side of the bed. It's nothing unexpected, but disappointing nonetheless. He sighs and gets up, reasoning with himself that Viktor probably had to sneak back to his dressing room, or something. Surely there must be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Determined to find his lover -he hesitates to use that word, but can't think of a better one- Yuuri dresses, brushes his teeth with a bottle of water in hand and heads outside. 

He's surprised to learn it's already past noon. If he were in Hasetsu, he'd be serving the guests lunch already and halfway through his work shift. Yet, he is finally rolling out of bed then, having not gone to sleep until after four am.

He flushes scarlet when he thinks of the reason he'd stayed up all night.

When he picked up his phone, his eyes went wide, as he finally saw several missed calls and twelve unchecked messages. They were ALL from Phichit.

'OMG Chris is amazing. We're never leaving. This is our home now!!'

'Yuuri, are you alive? We're all having breakfast before the band signs autographs. I get to sit in the booth with them! Aaaaaah!!!!'

'HAVE YOU SEEN VIKTOR'S HAIR?! WHERE ARE YOU???!! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!'

Yuuri is confused; what was different about Viktor's hair? It'd only been eight hours since their rendezvous. His curiosity is piqued.

Viktor's ears must have been burning, as he chooses that precise moment to appear coming up the hillside. He spots Yuuri and gives him a cheerful wave; he's relatively the same. Simple t shirt and jeans, which surely cost a small fortune. Designer sunglasses. And, most noticeable of all, his ears are visible.

Yuuri looks surprised as he comes over and falls into his embrace. Immediately, his hand comes up to stroke the freshly shaven fade just above his neck. It feels nice. He doesn't want to stop touching it.

"Your hair..." is all he can say.

Viktor visibly flinches and asks, "do you hate it?"

Yuuri circles him, taking in the haircut from front to back; he's honest when he says, "no, I don't. It suits you." Still, he can't help but wonder out loud, "why did you cut it?"

Viktor runs his hand through the fringe, which has a habit of falling over his left eye. He thinks for a moment before he answers. "It's a long story. Let's just say, it was time to cut it. Now, join me?" He asks, offering Yuuri his arm, which he gladly accepts.

They stroll together across the festival grounds. Viktor is on his way toward the autograph booth, with Yuuri as his company. With his sunglasses and new haircut, Viktor isn't so easily recognized; several concert attendees nod or casually smile as they pass by. Viktor seems relieved to walk amongst his fans without being heckled. When they arrive at the autograph booth, Phichit and Chris are there, along with Seung Gil and two young men Yuuri doesn't recognize. 

Phichit spots him, hops off of Christophe's lap and sprints over. "Yuuri! You're alive!" He declares in typical, dramatic Phichit fashion. He hugs him around the neck until Yuuri pats his arm, as his airway is being cut off. 

"Of course I'm alive. Just hungover. Guess that's how I'm spending the whole weekend," says Yuuri, chuckling sheepishly. 

"Morning, Yuuri," says Chris, stretching out the vowels in his name. He comes up and squeezes Yuuri's backside, making him jump. Yuuri looks over toward Viktor, who only shakes his head at his friend's antics. Phichit playfully swats at him; Yuuri writes it off as Christophe's usual mannerisms, with no harm intended.

"So, you're the famous Yuuri," says one of the boys Yuuri doesn't recognize. "I'm Leo del la Iglesia. I play key board for the band," he explains, extending his hand in a friendly shake. Yuuri takes it, incorporating his own traditional bow. 

"It's nice to meet you," replies Yuuri. "Although I'm far from famous."

"Well, you are around here!" This comes from a freckle faced younger boy, who looks to be about Yuri's age. He introduces himself as Guang Hong Ji, backup vocalist and drummer. Yuuri doesn't pry further about his increasing fame; he just looks over to Viktor, who shrugs casually, as if making Yuuri Katsuki into a household name was no big deal. 

They find a seat in the booth, with Yuuri proudly occupying the spot next to Viktor; everyone inquires about his haircut, especially the fans who come to receive his autograph and take pictures with him. Yuuri seems to be the only one sensing Viktor's discomfort; he suspects deeper meaning behind the dramatic change and makes a mental note to bring it up again later. Viktor doesn't seem to be his usual self; he's quiet and tense, as if something is weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Before he can put much thought to it though, someone comes up and asks for HIS picture! Yuuri is shocked, but Viktor nods encouragingly, so he agrees. He and Viktor pose on either side with the young girl, draping an arm across her shoulders. Behind her, Viktor's fingers tangle with his own, making Yuuri's stomach flip flop. He hopes he doesn't look terrible in the picture. They take a group shot afterward, which includes Phichit, throwing up peace signs as usual. Christophe is kissing his cheek. It's actually kind of adorable.

This is all so surreal, Yuuri can hardly even accept it. One minute, he's a heart broken, newly single, boring mop and the next, he's climbing on stage with a world famous band and posing in their pictures. Not to mention, he's slowly falling for the lead singer. 

He looks up at Viktor then; the singer is chatting with a young woman, who's clearly one of his fans. His smile is warm and charismatic, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His new haircut looks like something he should've been born with, the fringe falling into his eye and adding to his rock star appeal. Everything he does is so effortless, sexy, fun, caring and wonderful.

Yuuri smiles. Yes, he's definitely falling, hard. There's nothing he can do to stop it. 

Then, he sees something which makes his heart thump out of his chest; the girl in line furrows her brows and reaches out toward Viktor's face. His smile completely disappears and his own hand shoots up; there's a thin, red trail of blood coming from his nose. Within moments, he's visibly relaxed again, smiling and reaching into his back pocket for a tissue. He assures the fan he sometimes gets nose bleeds from the weather changing; she buys it easily enough, but Yuuri doesn't miss the tell tale signs of a casual lie. 

He doesn't bring it up again. He just accepts Viktor's kiss, the first time he's done so in front of their friends, and ignores the faint bitter taste left on his tongue. 

*********

That evening, Figure Eight is set to give their final performance. After the meet and greet with fans, Viktor hands Yuuri two front row tickets, for he and Phichit. He kisses him once more, then heads off to hair and makeup. Yuuri swears he can hear screams of outrage, which he thinks to be Viktor's band manager seeing his hair for the first time. Viktor had mentioned how angry he'd be, but seemed nothing other than amused by the thought. 

Yuuri heads back toward the audience and meets up with Phichit. This is by far the largest crowd he'd seen at the festival. Everyone was packed in, shoulder to shoulder, the sea of people going back as far as the eye could see. Lucky for them, their tickets allow them access to a fenced off area, where Yuuri has room to breathe. He does not envy the audience members. Yuri and Otabek are the only two people, other than he and Phichit. They both nod their silent greeting; Yuuri laughs when Phichit scoops Yuri up into a tight hug, the younger boy kicking and flailing as he fights away from the show of affection.

The show kicks off at sun down; Viktor, Christophe and the other band members come on stage, smiling and waving to the audience. Viktor winks down at Yuuri as he takes the microphone in hand. He greets the audience, the lights dim and then the music begins. 

Phichit knows this song, as he sings every word, lip movements matching Viktor's. The song has a somber mood to it, so unlike the first melody he'd danced to, just before being pulled on stage and serenaded. Still, this is good. It's evidently one Viktor wrote himself and it shows; his performance is emotional and heavy. Yuuri empathizes with him, even not knowing exactly what goes on in Viktor Nikiforov's mind. He knows every artist is complicated, some emotionally damaged, and he'd been warned about Viktor in particular. Yet, he still finds himself being drawn in, closer and closer, way out in the water and unable to swim back even if he wants to. It's terrifying and capturing, all at once.

There's a tap on his shoulder, just as the song ends. Yuuri breaks his applause and turns around; the smile on his face drops in a split second. Koji is standing there, smiling at him, as if nothing has happened between them. 

"What are you doing here?" Asks Yuuri, his voice sounding loud now that he's not yelling over the music.

"I've been here all weekend," says Koji. "The question is, what are YOU doing here?"

"He's with me," Phichit interjects, then kisses him on the cheek, as if they'd come to the show as lovers, rather than one best friend soothing the other's shattered heart.

Koji chuckles. "Is that why you're on the front page of rolling rock, holding hands with Viktor Nikiforov?"

He's zooming in on his phone screen then; Yuuri is at a loss, as he has no idea what Koji is talking about. "What?" Is all he manages to say, and then his ex is smirking as he shows him the image he found on Google. Sure enough, it's a picture of he and Viktor, the night they took a walk by the beach.

"Honestly Yuuri, I knew you were desperate, but I didn't peg you as a groupy whore."

"Hey!" Phichit shouts, standing between them. The music is starting again; Yuuri can't hear the argument between his ex and his best friend. He sees Phichit shouting in Koji's face, and his ex laughing it off, as if Yuuri's newfound popularity is an embarrassment. When the music pauses, he hears Phichit calling Koji "cheating scum." His ex drapes an arm over another man's shoulders and kisses him on the lips, his smug eyes never leaving Yuuri's.

Then, he looks back toward the stage. Viktor is watching everything. He hasn't stopped singing, but his eyes still stare straight into Yuuri's. There's an unspoken exchange between them and then, when the song ends, Viktor hops off stage, leaving the microphone behind him. He runs up to Yuuri, who runs back to meet him halfway and when they meet, Viktor is kissing him, while Yuuri falls backward onto the grass. The audience is silent. Somewhere out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees camera flashes, but he pays them no mind; instead, he breaks away to look into Viktor's eyes, so impossibly blue and so filled with longing, for him. Nothing else matters. 

Viktor stands and offers his hand to Yuuri, pulling him up off of the ground. He's leading him away from the audience, with Phichit cheering in the background; Koji is seething as he watches the retreating pair. Yuuri resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

As he's being led backstage, he sees a man standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and eyes glaring daggers at both of them. Viktor approaches him and stops, standing as a barrier between the other man and Yuuri. "For once, I have to disobey you, Yakov."

The man scoffs. "For once? When have you EVER listened to me?" He shakes his head and steps aside. As Viktor and Yuuri walk past, he mutters "you know what this means," and pulls a cigarette pack from his pocket.

"Yes," says Viktor, still holding Yuuri by the hand. "Yes, I do."


End file.
